


intuitively designed for dance

by kirael



Series: cracks to put their love into [1]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Cutesy, F/F, F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff, Gen, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, I Tried, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Multi, Panic Attacks, Past Torture, gays in space, space
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-09
Updated: 2016-11-09
Packaged: 2018-08-29 19:31:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8502559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kirael/pseuds/kirael
Summary: A space AU about falling in love and healing.





	

**Author's Note:**

> thanks to clipping.'s splendor and misery for heavy inspo

After they scream their throats out searching for others, they gather in the control room: cross-legged, leaned up against walls, sat atop counters with their atrophied legs swinging lazily. There's no panic, because the panic has been churned out of them, wrung out like dirt-rich water from a rag. They don't speak to each other, the air too thick for any words to penetrate through the fog.

In total, there are 8 of them, and as they look around the room they can see the others doing the same.

The first: leaning, sunken brown eyes and long unkempt hair. He stands up, pushing himself away from the wall he had been using as a crutch. When he speaks, his voice is hoarse and rough, painful from lack of use. "My name is Alexander Hamilton," he declares, words ringing out in the silence. He wields his name like a weapon. "If we're going to be with each other indefinitely, we might as well get to know each other."

The second: bright, clear eyes despite her shaved head and almost-faded bruises decorating her face in a grotesque mockery of makeup. "Elizabeth," she says. "I'm Elizabeth. Call me Eliza." She leaves no room for any arguments.

The third: sitting next to Eliza, her hair similarly cropped, trembling slightly. "Maria. Er. Lewis." Eliza winds her arm around Maria's for comfort.

And like that, they go around the room, declaring their names, shakily, one-by-one.

* * *

 It takes them two days to find the guards' dorms.

Dorm is the wrong word. Barracks is better. It's sixteen beds stacked like bricks on top of one another, barely big enough for Thomas Jefferson - the tallest of them, though the prize for broadest goes to Hercules- to squeeze into.

Further exploration (and aggressive, desperate attempts at accessing the ship's main computer) reveals the crew's living quarters near the control room.

They end up stripping the barrack beds of their mattresses and pillows and dragging them to the top deck, laying them across the floor of the gigantic captain's deck to create one giant mattress.

Jefferson, Burr, Madison, and Maria opt out of the communal sleeping space, each finding their own room. The rest sprawl out on the floor surrounded by the near-strangers they've found themselves with. 

* * *

Angelica volunteers herself to go to the bottom deck.

"Non-negotiable," she declares. She ignores the trembling in her hands. Her hair still hasn't grown out. The scars have barely started to fade.

She avoids looking at the pristine white walls, the chains in the cells fronted by clear glass panels, the inconspicuous room labelled "INTERROGATION" in crisp black letters.

The bodies, she suspects, have been cleared out by the automatic cleaning systems of the ship itself, dumped to discompose in the bowels of the ship.

In Block B, Hall 4, Cell 13, Angelica feels a wave of nausea envelop her. She drops to her knees and throws up. She stands up, shaky, and continues on.

“What did you find?” Jefferson asks when she emerges. “Was it worth it?”

“Fuck off,” she hisses.

He flinches back like he’s been shot.

Angelica heads to the kitchen. Luckily for her, both prison guards and starship crews drink profusely.

* * *

"Schuyler?"

"We're related," Eliza explains. "She's my sister."

"Huh," Alexander says. "What're the odds?" 

Eliza shrugs, smiling.

He leans down, kisses her hand in some bygone ritual from a foreign age, making her laugh.

This must be what falling in love feels like. 

* * *

“I was a Lieutenant Colonel,” Alexander says while they’re all gathered in the kitchen to eat.

“Congratulations,” Jefferson drawls.

Lafayette laughs, a soft, breathy thing that fades as quickly as it had appeared. "I ran away from my home galaxy to join General Washington."

"Ha," Laurens says into his liquor. "I've heard of you. Rich little heir with nothing to do with the war coming over to donate his money to the cause, favorite of the dear commander-in-chief. Now stuck on a prison ship sailing into oblivion." He leans into Alexander's side, his body warm and soft against his. 

"Do you think they've won?" Eliza wonders.

"I have faith in His Excellency," Lafayette says.

Alexander doesn't, but Lafayette looks so happy to hope Alexander can't bear to correct him.

* * *

 

Maria wakes up to the sound of her own screaming echoing in her ears. She's breathing heavily, her heart racing, her arms scratched to hell, bloody and red.

She stands up, makes her bed, leaves the room, heads into the room where the others are sleeping. She waits patiently for the sensors to open the door. When the doors do open, she finds a free space on the floor and lies down. 

The closest near her wakes up. "Who is it?" they whisper.

Maria doesn't answer. She's too busy falling asleep.

* * *

Theodosia forces her way into the ship's main computer in a bout of furious productivity after days of lethargy.

"I made it in," she says. Then, louder: "I made it in!"

Burr, who had been lounging in the captain's room, lifts his head up from one of the books he had found in the guards' belongings. "What?"

Theodosia rolls her eyes. "The computer," she says. "Can you," she waves her hands in the general direction of the door, "get Madison?"

Burr uncurls himself from the sofa. "You got in," he says.

"Yes," Theodosia says. She wishes Burr wasn't the one here to share her victory. He doesn't care about anything, it seems, even as they've all bared themselves, scrubbed herself raw until she could feel her organs exposed to the air.

Theodosia follows Burr's hands as he sets down his book. She looks back at his face - carefully blank, as it always is. It's a very punchable face.

"What did you find on there?" he asks. "Any way to get us home?"

Ha. Home. Spread out across star systems and galaxies. Each of them from completely different worlds. As if there's one home. 

"No," she replies. "I've only got partial access. That doesn't include the navigational system. That's going to need more. But there's other stuff."

"Oh," he says. He stares at the computer projection. "Show me?" His eyes gleam in the simulated sunlight.

She nods. "Okay."

* * *

The hair situation is odd. Half of them have had their hair shaved, while the other half have too-long hair trailing down to their chest. Facial hair is rampant, and they can't go a day without Hamilton complaining about his pseudo-beard.

In one of the bathrooms, Aaron finds a store of razors and scissors.

"Who wants a haircut?" he asks, holding up his supplies at the door of the control room where the group spends most of their time.

"Me!" Alexander says at the same time Angelica, Maria, Lafayette, and Hercules voice their excitement.

Jefferson pulls at his hair, finally starting to grow out. "I'm good," he says, "though a shave would be nice."

"No, thank you," Eliza says. Theodosia voices her agreement.

Laurens shrugs, his feet up on the main computer controls, staring out of the window at the endless array of stars stretching out in front of him. "I'm thinking of keeping it long," he muses, just loud enough for Aaron to hear. 

Aaron goes through each of them until it’s his turn.

“You ready?” James Madison murmurs above him, razor poised over his head. Aaron doesn’t like Madison, even though they’re probably more similar than anyone gives them credit for.

“Yes,” Aaron says. He feels his head getting lighter as Madison works, and he thinks that if Madison keeps going he’ll start floating. He closes his eyes so he can imagine it.

* * *

There’s a gym. It has weights and treadmills and so much equipment John wants to scream at the glory of it.

Hercules is already sitting down to work on his arms while Alexander cautiously stares at the treadmill as if it’s dangerous.

John makes his way over to the punching bags. God, he’s so angry it hurts.

He stays in the gym past midnight, works until his knuckles bleed and his bones ache.

Eliza comes in, stares at him. "You should sleep," she says.

He should. But his blood sings with adrenaline and there's a buzz in his veins that makes him want to kill something.

Eliza grabs his arm and guides him out of the gym, into the bathroom. John watches as she washes his cuts, bandages his hand.

"Done," she says, patting his hand lightly. "Do you always stay up so late?"

There's an answer, somewhere, but John can't find it. He feels the buzz, feels it snaking through his body, feels himself vibrating.

"John," Eliza says.

John blinks. "Sorry," he says. "What?"

"John," Eliza repeats.

The buzzing feeling is gone. The answers float back down to him. He catches them in his hand and tosses them to Eliza. "Thanks for cleaning me up," he says.

Eliza smiles at him. He smiles back.

* * *

"I saw Hamilton kissing Eliza," Jefferson says, flopped over his bed.

James looks up at him from where he's sitting on the floor. "I thought he liked John."

Jefferson makes a soft huffing noise.

James gives him a funny little look: his nose scrunches up, he tilts his head, stares at Jefferson. "What's wrong?"

Jefferson shakes his head. "Fucking Hamilton," he mutters.

James laughs. "Yeah." When he sobers up, he asks, "How're you holding up, anyway?"

Jefferson blinks, his eyes wide and bright and strangely childish. He makes a soft grunting noise and says, "Just peachy, Jem."

James nods. “That’s good. Good. Fine.”

They lapse into silence. James stares at his nails: slightly overgrown, but clean.

Jefferson shifts from his spot, moving so that he's closer to James.

James turns to look at him. If he wanted to, James could touch him: brush his fingers against Jefferson's hair and face and kiss him. God, he's so beautiful it hurts. He doesn't do anything; Jefferson moves away. 

* * *

Lafayette spends most of his time wandering the space ship, discovering the hidden nooks and crannies of the place.

He finds a coloring book hidden away in one of the bathrooms; it's half-finished, the spirals and shapes in bright red and orange and blue. Later, he finds a set of colored pencils tucked behind the frame of one of the beds.

By the end of the second week, he's amassed quite a collection: the coloring book and its matching set of pencils, a small figurine shaped like an animal of some sort, an old, ragged hat, a deck of cards, fifty-odd marbles, and piles of make up: blush and eyeliner and lipstick and stacks of foundation. 

Hercules takes one look at his collection and starts laughing. "Where'd you find all this?" he asks through his laughter. He picks up the coloring book, paging through it.

Lafayette shrugs. "Around," he replies. He doesn't speak much, preferring to listen, his English still shaky.

Hercules drops the coloring book and scoops up a handful of marbles. "Did the crew leave these behind?"

Lafayette shrugs again. "I assume so."

Hercules sets the marbles down gently, so they don't roll, and picks up the deck of cards. "Care for a game?" he asks. His grin is infectious.

"There's a few cards missing," Lafayette says.

Hercules shrugs. "Eh, we'll manage."

"I don't know any card games." He doesn't know any games, period. Never any time to play, as a child. Too busy being groomed into a little lord.

Hercules holds the cards out to him. "We'll manage," he says.

Lafayette smiles. He takes them.

* * *

The first time Hamilton and Jefferson fight, Maria has a panic attack. It's about something completely inconsequential, but Maria can't stop the way her heart clenches and the world closes in around her as she sobs in the bathroom.

As she's winding down, there's a knock on the door.

"Maria?" Angelica. Her voice is soft. "Want to tell me why you ran away?"

"No," Maria mumbles.

"Okay," Angelica replies. "Do you want to open the door for me?"

"Um," Maria croaks, then clears her throat. She picks herself up from the floor and breathes in, out. She opens the door.

Angelica is tall and her smile is big and gentle.

Maria stares at the line of her lipstick. There's some on her teeth, but she looks beautiful nonetheless.

Angelica moves to the side so she isn't covering the doorway. "Hey," she says.

Maria swallows. "Hi." There's a huge lump in her throat. She coughs, once, to get rid of it, but that only results in her having a huge coughing fit.

Angelica pats her back while she hacks her lungs out.

"Sorry," Maria says.

"No need to apologize," Angelica replies, stroking her back even though she's stopped coughing; Maria leans into it.

"Maria," Angelica says, "you want to head to the rooms?"

"Mm." Maria lets herself be tugged along by Angelica until they reach one of the private rooms. Her head feels like she needs to swim through fields of cotton balls to reach her thoughts. She wants to sleep.

"Here," Angelica says, laying her down on the bed.

Maria wants to protest, wants to stand back up and march back into the fray, but she's so tired. So tired it aches. She falls asleep, face buried in the comforter.

When she wakes up, she wakes up to Angelica beside her, snoring softly, her face soft and lax in the darkness. Maria sinks deeper into the mattress and falls back asleep.

* * *

Theodosia likes working on the computer with James; he's quiet and solid and he knows so much about tech it stuns even her. And he notices things, which takes her aback; most people don't.

"Are you dating Thomas?" she asks.

He looks up at her from where he's kneeling on the ground, the ship's innards spread out around him. His eyes are dark and unreadable. "Thomas is my friend," he says.

A pause.

"You and Aaron seem to be getting closer," he continues, "and he's clearly attracted to you. You may or may not feel the same way. I don't see the relevance in asking about relationship statuses."

Theodosia shrugs. She studies a tangle of bright blue and green wires. "I don't think Thomas is good for you," she says.

James doesn't say anything.

"He's obnoxious, loud, oblivious, and a myriad of other not-quite-pleasant adjectives," Theodosia continues.

"You don't know him," James replies stubbornly. He closes the hatch, hiding the electronic guts behind a smooth metallic surface.

"He doesn't deserve you," Theodosia adds.

"You," James said, standing up, "don't determine what he does and doesn't deserve." He walks out of the room.

 Theodosia wants to laugh. She goes to find Aaron.

* * *

"I've been looking through storage, and I've found a bunch of extra food," Lafayette says.

"Like what?" Eliza asks from where she's spinning around in the captain's chair. Angelica, sitting on the floor besides her, trying to get her to stop long enough to paint her nails, looks up.

"There's a few pounds of flour - not enough to last for a long time - and a lot of preserved fruit."

"Fruit?" Eliza says gleefully. Angelica tugs on one of her toes to try and get her to sit still.

Lafayette nods, feeling strangely embarrassed. He's not sure why he went here first. "Oui. I mean, yes. I was thinking I would use the last of the flour to bake some pastries to, uhm, boost the morale."

Eliza jumps up from her chair and joy, ignoring Angelica's hissed, "Elizabeth!"

"I think that's a fantastic idea!" she says. "What do you need? Angie and I can help."

Lafayette looks flustered. "I just need use of the kitchens and some other odds and ends, to add to the flavor. I'd be glad to accept your help."

Eliza pulls Angelica up to stand with her. "I'm going to see if Theo or Alex or John want to help," Eliza says. She pauses. "Actually, no. Alex and John might be busy - hey!" She glares at Angelica, who had nudged her in the side, a knowing look on her face.

Lafayette bounces from side to side. He's getting more and more excited by the second; he hasn't been able to properly bake in ages. He has a feeling it's going to turn out great. 

* * *

"You're so good," John mutters into Alex's shoulder. "God, you're so perfect. You're so - fuck - so gorgeous."

Alex laughs, soft and muffled. "You flatter me," he says. "Besides, where would I be without your big, fat-" He stops talking, cut off by the pillow John stuffs into his face.

"Gross," John says.

Alex laughing, pushes the pillow off and throws it back at John. It's nice, he thinks, to have something to do on this massive ship. If he was at home or at least on a ship with his own stuff, he'd be busy writing away, detailing his own plans for treaties and finance while helping Washington administrate. But here, stranded, he's got nothing to do but hang on. Bartow and Madison are lucky; they have a project to busy themselves with. Alex vows to learn the ins and out of computers as soon as they're rescued. If they're rescued.

They sit in amiable silence, just soaking in the warmth of the other person.

Alex breaks the silence, as he always does. "Eliza brought this up a while ago, but do you really think the war's going on well?"

John shrugs. "I don't know much about war tactics or the negotiations the General was doing. They just point me at a planet and I go. Isn't that more of your thing?"

Alex makes a small huffing noise before he replies, the prelude to a laugh. "Yeah, you're right. You know, before we were captured, Washington said he thinks the war is far from over."

"Mmm. And now some of his top generals and advisors have been snatched away right under his nose. He can't even negotiate them back."

"'Top?'"

John buries his noise into Alex's shoulder. "Don't sell yourself short," he murmurs. "Without you, the army would've fallen apart ages ago."

"Thanks," Alex says. "I'm getting kind of hungry."

"Too much exercise?" John teases.

Alex sits up and sticks his tongue out at John. "No. Lafayette made cookies and I want to try some."

John's eyes widen. "What? How?"

Pulling on his clothes, Alex replies, "He found some flour in the back of storage and this weird fruit that only grows on a certain planet in the 4th sector. Says he can make some fantastic cookies with those."

John gets up as well, kissing Alex on the forehead before they head out.

It feels horribly domestic.

* * *

 

Hercules doesn't quite fit in. He's big, and tall, and intimidating, but so is Thomas. He's quiet but observant, but so is Madison. He's soft and sweet, but so is Eliza. Other people fill the shoes that he potentially could. Which is why he's so surprised when he finds himself squirreled away in a private corner with Aaron Burr, of all people, piss drunk and gossiping about everyone else.

"'S funny," Hercules slurs, "all you guys are bonding so well it's kind of funny."

"Not really," Aaron says. Even after 3 bottles of whatever the fuck they've had, he's still as eloquent as ever. "It was bound to happen. There's no one else. We're basically forced into intimacy."

"Yeah," Hercules says, "but I'd think there'd be more conflict. It's just Thomas and Alex."

Aaron blinks at him. "You want more conflict?"

"No, no!" Hercules waves his hands in the air. "It's good. I mean, I thought there'd be more. Putting people into an enclosed space tends to create friction and stuff."

"Mmm," Aaron hums, reaching around Hercules for another bottle. "Apparently not, then, at least with this group of people."

"You shouldn't drink," Hercules mutters, though he doesn't stop Aaron from gulping down the liquor. He yawns. "How're-how're you and Theodosia?"

Aaron stiffens, his entire form stilling to an eerie stop. He frowns.

Hercules blinks, waiting for a response. He's too drunk to really understand social cues.

"We're fine," Aaron says finally.

Grinning, Hercules pats Aaron on the back. "Great-good for you, dude. Everyone's hooking up. I'm glad y'all are getting some." He makes a face. "That's gross. I don't wanna think about y'all having sex. Ew."

Aaron laughs, even if it's a bit strained. "I don't think everyone is 'hooking up,' as you say."

"Yeah, but, like, Alex and John have already banged. Eliza and Alex are totally in love. And I don't know what's going on with Angie and Maria, but they're real cute. And you and Theo have your thing going on."

Aaron smiles through his teeth. "And you, Hercules? No romance in your life?"

"Nah," Hercules hiccups. "Not my kind of thing. Got a lot of love towards a lot of people, but never to one person in particular, ya dig?"

"Not really," Aaron says.

Hercules lets out a long, forlorn sigh. "I miss dirt," he laments, patting the cold metal at his feet. "It was so nice and warm."

Aaron makes a face. "Alright, I think you've had enough," he says. He pulls Hercules up to a standing position, then sets him on the path to bed.

That night, Hercules dreams of trees swaying in the breeze and grass under his feet, endless rolling fields ahead of him.

* * *

Angelica breaks her arm and only avoids permanently damaging it because Laurens knows how to make a splint from the supplies in the poorly stocked infirmary.

She can feel her bone cracking when it happens, the sound echoing in her ears, her eyes wide and shocked before the pain catches up to her overactive heart, trying relentlessly to keep her alive. She doesn't scream - she's had much worst - but she does lift her head and call, weakly, for help. She thinks she blacks out after that.

"You're lucky," Laurens says as he watches her squirm in her bed. "It only fractured. I don't know what I would've done if it broke clean."

"Well, I guess I'm just lucky," Angelica jokes.

"Mmm," Laurens hums. "You gonna be okay if I leave you alone?"

Angelica rolls her eyes. "I wasn't born yesterday," she complains.

"Yeah," Laurens retorts, "but you did suffer a serious injury yesterday and as your doctor I want to make sure you're safe and alive." 

"Alive!" Angelica declares. "I'm alive! And safe! And I'll be fine."

Like he's a toddler, Laurens sticks his tongue out at her before he leaves.

When he's gone, Angelica tests the limits of her pain tolerance by trying to move her arm; it's a bad idea, but she's been hanging out with Alex too much anyway.

* * *

 "My parents," Theo says.

Aaron laughs. "That's a good answer."

She sits up and stares at him. "And you? Nothing?"

"Well," Aaron says, thinking it over, "I hate to admit it, but I miss politics."

Theo scrunches her nose up, her eyebrows coming together to form one giant, furry snake. "I've never met anyone who actually likes politics."

Aaron grins. "C'mon, Theo, it's exciting! Don't you want to be the one making the decisions that affect billions of people?" 

"Not really," she replies. "Do you?

Aaron pauses, blinks. He remembers, vaguely, the day his father died. It was early morning, the sky bright and beautiful. It was the first day of the new year, and his father came home in a dull grey jar of ashes. _Control_ , he thinks, a million light years away.

"Aaron," Theo says, her voice right by his ear.

Aaron turns to stare at her, at her dark brown eyes gleaming bright and sharp. He takes a breath before speaking. "Kiss me?" he asks, quiet.

Theo nods and presses her lips to his.

Aaron feels like he's flying.

 

**Author's Note:**

> finally published this to mourn the death of america
> 
> this will probably be a series
> 
> edit: [duckmoles](https://duckmoles.tumblr.com) is my tumblr


End file.
